


yeah, I feel you burning. everything's burning.

by secretly_a_savior



Series: the b sides of broken records [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: (abusive relationship is past!hamburr not whamilton!), Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BSBRverse, Conflict, Confrontations, Fights, Hurt/Comfort, I Love You, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 04:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6889960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretly_a_savior/pseuds/secretly_a_savior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Conflict upon conflict arises after George finally meets Aaron Burr, and the odd couple is forced to confront the intricacies of their relationship.</p><p>- </p><p>
  <i>A heavy sigh drifted over from the passenger seat and somehow George already knew the answer, so he answered it for himself. He didn’t have the patience to listen to Alex try to creatively phrase it. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	yeah, I feel you burning. everything's burning.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!!! Three big notes before u go on to read this!!
> 
> 1\. I HIGHLY suggest you read part 1! It's entitled 'why i feel so the opposite?' and sets up some backstory on the Alex/Aaron relationship! All you need to know ASIDE from the events of that fic is that Alex is George's T.A. and George was in the military before he got a teaching degree.
> 
> 2\. SHOUT the HECK out to this fic 4 being my longest one-shot!!! very long!! almost 4k! thirty-some-odd words away!!
> 
> 3\. OBVS if abusive relationships/manipulative people or age gaps make you uncomfortable or if you're a Hamburr stan from hell you're not gonna want to read this. 
> 
> this is, as always, for kendolla holla get dolla.

To one Alexander Hamilton, it seemed like there really couldn’t be a better day. Everything was perfect. He was sitting in a Starbucks, slotted right against the window, wrapped in an oversized coat, his laptop set out in front of him with about 200 papers he’d graded sitting neatly on a clipboard next to him. He had one leg dangling towards the ground, the other pulled close to him, the back of his foot sharing the seat with him so that his shin was lodged against the nailed-down table. He’d made himself at home- he’d be working all day, and his apartment building was closed up until nine that night for some reason. Were they painting something? He’d forgotten now.

                George’s stuff was also present on the tall table- a half finished Caffé Verona, his computer, an envelope full of AP test grades. His laptop bag was slung around the empty chair opposite Alex, to signify that the seat was _taken, thank you very much._ Alex took a sip of his coffee, which was now just melted ice and whipped cream, and glanced up from his laptop. George had to run a few errands after a rather erratic call from one Thomas Jefferson. He’d be back though- which was good, considering he’d driven Alex to the coffee shop. Alex had declined to go with him in favor of getting work done (and in favor of maintaining their free refills.)

                He’d finished his work since, and subsequently lost himself in a biography on his Macbook, completely content with himself. He adjusted his glasses briefly and made sure the loose knot he’d pulled his hair into was still intact. He looked like a _put-together mess,_ as George called it- and he was okay with that. It was a solid aesthetic- like a hipster but not quite, and it suited him well. He wasn’t cut out for tailored clothes and neat, cropped hair. He was crooked glasses and messy papers. He knew it, and it astounded him that he’d found someone that appreciated that. He glanced down at his phone as he reached the end of a chapter and read his messaged.

                **_{i-message; venerated virginian veteran}_** Be back soon.  
                **_{i-message; venerated virginian veteran}_** Jefferson is crazy.

                Alex typed a reply and returned to his biography, pulling himself further into his jacket.

 ** _{i-message; o}_** can’t wait!   
**_{i-message; o}_** You can say that again- jfc what was it that couldn’t wait until tomorrow morning?

                He returned to his book, pulling a red pen from where it lay behind his ear and put it between his lips. It occurred to him that he had his headphones and he put them in before choosing a playlist. It was just his _most played,_ something easy to listen to absentmindedly as he continued to read. As soon as he pulled himself back out of reality and engrossed himself in the book somebody was tapping his shoulder, though. Very typical. He pulled his earbuds out with only a little bit of irritation and glanced over.  It was the barista.

                “This is for you- from the guy over there in the grey.” She handed him a drink and smiled. She had stepped away before Alex could react or tip her. He read the label and grinned. It was a favorite of his- one he often got when he needed to stay awake or when he wanted to reward himself for something difficult. A coffee frap with three pumps hazelnut syrup, two extra shots of espresso and no whip to make room for the extra coffee. George must’ve been back- he was wearing grey when he left, right? He took a sip of the drink, glanced over his shoulder and blinked a few times- he didn’t see his boyfriend, or anybody who fit the (albeit, rather vague) description for that matter. As he turned back around, he practically jumped out of his skin, immediately tensing. He could practically _feel_ the color leave his skin as he completely processed who was sitting across from him.

                “This seat taken?” Aaron Burr asked, grinning with those wide brown eyes that struck _fear_ and _disgust_ in its purest form into Alexander.  Suddenly, he wanted the taste of hazelnut out of his mouth _immediately._ He felt bile in the back of his throat, but he tried to remain cordial. He felt trapped in his own body- he didn’t even have a car he could escape with, if he was even able to take all of his and George’s stuff out in one trip.

                “Yeah.” He said, pushing the Frappuccino away from himself, trying hard to focus on his music. Perfect day no more.

                “Well, I don’t see anyone, but I’ll warm the seat for whomever it is.” Burr said, reaching forward and closing Alex’s computer with confidence. “You know, I never understood why you don’t like _real_ books.” He commented, smiling still. Alex forced a small smile for the sake of not making a scene. Aaron was just making small talk. “You can’t _feel_ an e-book.”

                Alexander loved paper books, but there **was** a reason he didn’t really buy them anymore. “You don’t remember?” he asked, quirking his head, giving the other an almost incredulous look as he spoke. “I write in them- I mark them up. I make them _ugly.”_ He tried to hide the venom that escaped with his words but it failed. He wanted to reach across the table and get his boyfriend’s cold coffee just so he had something to wash back the nausea but that would be getting too close to Aaron for his own comfort. “Remember? _Everything_ I touched became **ugly** and **messy-** e-books are neater, and the spines won’t crack.” He offered a supplemental chuckle adding a note of humor. He hoped using the other’s own words against him would get his point across, but it didn’t. Aaron stayed.

                “You know I never _meant_ that, right babe?”

                “Don’t call me **_babe._** ” Alex warned, eyes narrowing as he spoke. His outwardly calm demeanor hid the fact that his heart was beating at at _least_ 60,000 beats per minute. He could hear his blood rushing in his ears and it felt like his chest was trying to run away. He chewed on the straw of his first drink, and looked at Aaron.

                “Regardless, if you kept doing it after I left you, there must’ve been some note of truth to it.” Aaron chided, smile never leaving his lips. Alex knew that wasn’t true- it had just become a _habit_ to stop buying paper books, even though he liked the way they felt, and even better liked the way they looked with cracked spines and sticky notes coming out at all angles. He wanted to look _neat-_ to look put together. He didn’t want anything to be ugly.

                Alex glanced at his phone and his chest felt _hollow_ that there weren’t any notifications. He needed to get up and go as quickly as he could. He needed to _shower,_ he needed to be close to someone. It struck him that he’d taken a drink from Aaron, and then immediately it struck him that Aaron wasn’t _that_ kind of scum. If he wanted something from Alex he’d just pin him to a wall behind the building and push at insecurities until Alex stopped putting up a fight. Not to mention, the barista had brought it to him.

                “What’s your game? I’m not _available,_ I’m not **yours.** “ Alex asked, straightening up and letting his other leg off the chair, hanging.

                “You know, when your knees are pulled to your chest like that, it means you’re protecting yourself. You’re worried about something. Letting yourself uncurl means you feel _safe._ “ Aaron said, as if he were a psychologist or something. Alex just felt comfortable with one leg up- he drove like that, he studied like that. It was his _default position-_ there wasn’t a meaning to it. “Are you okay?” the law student continued, feigned concern seeming almost sincere. “Are you being abused, Alex? Do y-“

                “Not _anymore.”_ Alex cut the other off, and Aaron’s face went sour quickly before returning to its seemingly charming grin, a flash of the anger that Alex knew too well. Never physical, always silent, always collected and quiet. Aaron Burr’s anger was like a _knife-_ a gun could kill instantly- but a knife could damage you forever- and the best part? It was **quiet.** There wasn’t thuds or bangs or exit wounds, just intricately carved wounds and the _possibility_ of death. The knife was on your skin, but if could be in your throat just as easily. Aaron’s anger was like a domestic cat hunting a mouse. He wasn’t killing for his dinner. He was killing for fun, and he’d let you believe you could escape until death was _preferable,_ and then he got bored with you and finally allowed mercy.

                “Alex, you’re the reason I left you- how can you say-“

                “Who’s this?”

                George’s voice pierced the uncomfortable aire surrounding Alex and he relaxed immediately. He was _safe_ again. Thank god.

                “This is Aaron Burr.” Alex explained. The name tasted sour on his tongue.

                “Aaron Burr, Sir.” George said, immediately straightening up, going on the offensive. He’d envisioned someone… _larger._ Alex didn’t seem like the type to let someone his own size take him down. Regardless of preconceptions, he cocked his head before continuing to speak. “Heard a lot about you.”

                “Have you, now?” Aaron asked, amusement running under his voice. Of course Alex had continued to slander his name. “Haven’t heard much about you- which Is strange considering Alexander and I had a pretty _involved_ chat last week.” He paused briefly, taking joy in watching Alex tense up again. He grabbed Alex’s phone from the neutral space on the table and unlocked it easily,- Alex had never taken his fingerprint out-  pulled up the recent conversation with _‘Don’t Answer’_ and thrust the phone into George’s hands.

 “That’s okay though- I get it. I wouldn’t want my grandkids to know I’m with one of their classmates either.” He said, standing from the seat where George’s laptop bag was slung. Alex was ever-so-subtly _shaking._ Not the shakes he usually had- caffeine (or caffeine withdrawal, depending on the day and the line at the Starbucks drive-thru.) shakes- but a full body _shiver._ George took his seat and bit his tongue as Burr stalked away, putting Alex’s phone down without a second thought.

“Burr.” George called across the bustling store, and Aaron stopped, turning around and offering an inquisitive glance. “Don’t let me see you around Alexander _ever again.”_ Aaron scoffed and then approached again. He placed a broad hand on Alex’s arm.

“If he’s controlling you, _call me._ ” He said, glancing from Alex’s angry, unfixed eyes, and then to the teacher that sat across from them. In one swift movement, one the shaking teacher’s-aide couldn’t trace until after it happened, George quickly moved and suddenly the drink Aaron had bought for Alex was all over him, the cup falling to the ground. Aaron stomped out, and were Alex not shaken to his fucking core, he would’ve laughed. He’d wanted to do that for years.

Alex glanced to his companion, and he was gathering all of his things, so he followed suit, avoiding the puddle of coffee and hazelnut syrup and ice on the ground. He stayed behind, ten thousand thoughts running around on the inside of his brain to the point he could hardly see straight. They walked out to George’s Explorer in silence.

They drove in silence, too, until George missed the exit that would lead him to Alex’s apartment.

“You missed the-“

“I didn’t miss the exit, you’re coming over, unless you don’t want to. Your apartment is still closed up, right?” George said, eyes not leaving the road. There was something cold behind his words- residual anger from finally meeting Burr- from being accused of abusing Alex by the very person that abused him- anger at himself for not controlling himself- for making a _scene._ He was a _regular_ at that Starbucks. He **knew** all those people and he made a huge fucking scene.

Alex, though, was completely convinced the other was upset with him and immediately launched into anxious remorse. He wished he could tuck and roll.

“’m sorry.” He muttered, pulling both of his knees to his chest, adjusting his seatbelt accordingly. It was a bit of a drive to the base, but he slipped his I.D into the center console.

“For what?”

“I’m just sorry. For everything- you have every right to be angry.”

George knew Alex was right. He was even a little bit angry, but he didn’t want to express it. He also didn’t want to handle Alexander with kid gloves though, he was an _adult,_ he was conscious of what had happened to him and who he was because of it. George internally chastised himself for thinking in terms his shrink would encourage him to use and shifted a little bit, letting his foot off the gas slightly.

“Why would you text him?” George asked, referring to the _involved conversation._

“It’s not what he made it sound like, I pr-“

“I don’t care what it was. Against my own best judgement, I trust you, I just want to know _why.”_

A heavy sigh drifted over from the passenger seat and somehow George already knew the answer, so he answered it for himself. He didn’t have the patience to listen to Alex try to creatively phrase it.

“You were drunk. Or stoned- or both.” He said, which elicited a nod from the other. A few more miles in silence passed before Alex spoke up.

“It didn’t hit me who I was talking to- It’s not my fault he keeps reaching out.”

“It’s your fault you got trashed.”                              

“I’m twenty-five. What else am I supposed to do on a Friday night? Can’t spend time with _you-“_

George scoffed, shooting a sharp glare at Alex momentarily before looking back out the windshield.

“I’m really sorry I want to spend the only day I have with my daughter _with my daughter.”_ George said, brows pulling together as he spoke. Alex trilled his lips in frustration, shaking his head.

“That’s not wh-“

“No. I don’t deserve that kind of tone from you. You came into this knowing damn well it was going to be difficult.”

“And what is _this?”_ Alex asked, pulling his head up from his knees and looking towards the driver.  “A secret relationship between a 40 y-“

“ _Thirty-nine.”_

 _“_ As if your vanity counts right now.” He scoffed in something just barely approaching outright disgust. “ A secret relationship between a _thirty-nine_ year old divorced veteran who somehow ended up teaching AP English _and_ Theatre, and his damaged-goods teacher’s aide with a penchant for partying? Is that what **_this_** is?”

George sighed, and before he could get a response they were at the gates of the base. George stopped a little bit abruptly, grimacing as he drove around the safeguards before stopping.

“Driving it like you stole it today, huh, sir?” The guard asked with an amused grin, reaching out to take the IDs from George’s outstretched hands. The IDs were handed back and without responding George drove off, hanging a right towards housing before replying to Alex’s question.

“You make it seem like it’s the worst thing in the world.” He accused, and Alex shot back near-immediately.

“You know damn well that there’s only one part of that description that bothers me, George.” Alex said, referring to the _secret_ part. There was nothing in the contract Alex signed that said within-work relationships were banished, there was nothing _illegal_ about their relationship. What was the worst that could happen if they went public- he’d be assigned to a different teacher? Years of foster care prepared him for _that_ kind of treatment- they’d just have to adjust when they saw each other, which, considering the imagined scenario, wouldn’t be too hard because they wouldn’t have to _hide_ anything anymore. George just shook his head as he pulled into his drive way, pulling his seatbelt offand putting his head on the steering wheel in frustration.

“You just don’t _get_ it, Alexander, and you _won’t,_ because you’re childish.” George spat, hurt glance landing on the other before he exit the car. On his way in he left his key in the front door and the door wide open for Alex, who followed suit once the other was out of his line of sight. He pulled the key and shut the door behind himself, leaning against it for a moment as he ditched his shoes, as was requested of him when he entered the other’s house. Especially considering the other’s recent statement, his beat up Converse looked ridiculous next to the other’s slick oxfords, so he kicked them into the corner. Out of sight, out of mind.

He lurked the house slowly for a few minutes, trying to calm himself, not really looking for the other. He was angry now, which was a good feeling compared to the nerves that consumed him earlier. Not positive in any sense of the word. Once he finally found the other opening a water bottle in his kitchen, he responded, trying to stay level. He refused to see himself as anything less than _equal_ with the other, hardships or not. He wasn’t one to worship his lovers and he sure as hell wasn’t an inexperienced damsel in distress.

“You know what’s _childish?”_ he offered, an eyebrow quirked. He reached into the other’s fridge and grabbed his own water bottle despite their argument. He uncapped it and caught the other’s eyes. “Driving to a coffee shop 30 minutes away from your place to _grade papers-_ not even a date. You know what’s _childish?_ Being downright **rude** to me in front of anybody at school so they don’t _suspect anything._ You’re mean to everybody you aren’t in a relationship with? Or is it _cool_ to be mean to the T.A? High school politics are for _high schoolers,_ not the educators leading them.”

George bit his lip, shaking his head and staring at the tile, eyes tracing patterns in the grout.

“You know what else is childish?” He asked, head slowly coming up so he could meet Alex’s gaze again. “Thinking that _this_ could work” He paused- he thought the world of Alex, but he was irritated beyond belief at the moment and _seriously_ having his doubts. He didn’t want to be too scathing, but decided to allow himself to just _speak_. This wasn’t a subject where **_fragility_** was necessary, especially not with the tone he was getting from Alex. “Thinking that someone who can’t even decide what to _wear_ every morning could possibly understand why I keep secrets. Thinking that someone that would rather go to parties than confront their problems could possibly have a _grip_ on-“

“Yeah. Yep- as if you look your _post-traumatic stress disorder_ right in the eyes and say **fuck you!** As if you haven’t been so hungover that your lesson plans became watching _The Lion King!_ As if you haven’t spent hours trying to fix my shitty life when you’re on the verge of a fucking breakdown! _”_

“At least when **I** drink- at least when I use your issues to circumvent mine- it’s to avoid **real problems!”**

Alex gasped, his hand flying over his mouth. George hardly _ever_ raised his voice, and when he did he never said things so _purely **hurtful.**_ Alexander backed up a few paces, biting the inside of his mouth and shaking his head. How did he even _respond_ to that- how could someone he loved say something so _disgusting?_ George immediately shook his head, softening and attempting to piece together an apology, but Alex had already sprinted out of the kitchen to God knows where. The house really _was_ too much for one person.

He finished his water and let himself calm down for a while before going off in search of the other. When he found him, he was on the couch, flipping through an app on his cell phone, clearly holding back tears. George felt torn apart that he’d caused that. He was known among students for his even temperament, but he _snapped_ once or twice, and those incidents were always notorious. He’d never meant to snap on Alex- to let his temper flare up like that.

“Fuck you.” Said the brunette on the couch as George approached, shaking his head and smacking his phone down onto the off-white leather upholstery. He didn’t even look at the other as he spoke- he only knew he was present because of his footsteps and his looming shadow. “Fuck you for saying that, fuck you for keeping us a secret, fuck you for thinking you’re above me, fuck you because you’re going to chastise me for language, and _most of all_ fuck you because there’s only $25.92 in my bank account, and an Uber home would be 29 dollars.”

“Did you try Lyft?” George asked with a small chuckle, to which he received a wet-eyed _glare_ from his aide. “Yeah, I know. Fuck me for that too, right? Look- I’m _sorr-“_

 _“_ You can’t just say sorry for something like that. It’s not that shallow.“

“Do you want me to drive you home?”

“No. I- I want to know why you think that was an okay thing to say.”

George bit his lip, unsure of his own motives. He didn’t _mean_ it- not at all- he was just so **frustrated** with _everything._ He tried to formulate a response, and to stay angry, but it was hard. They both **hated** being mad at each other, especially considering their close work relationship.

“I- I don’t know either- your problems –“

“Don’t define me, and more importantly, don’t matter. At least not to you. ” Alex finished for him, standing and crossing the room to George. “Because you’re not me, and they _aren’t_ your problems. I don’t have an ex-wife, or a kid- not that she’s a _problem, but-_ nevermind that, and I never saw war. You never had a shit childhood or a consistently abusive significant other that you can’t escape. We’re people independent of each other and-“ he paused, shaking his head for a moment and glancing down at the other’s socked feet. He calculated his next words carefully. “- and I love you, but I can’t keep going if you can’t even take me seriously as a person. I’ve got more issues than a magazine, but I’m more than just some kid.”

“You love me.” George said quietly, more to himself, more for mental confirmation of what the other had said. He laughed quietly and smirked. He loved him. Wow. There was a moment of silence where he tried to formulate a response to that, but Alex’s arms were around him after a moment, and he just returned the gesture with a quiet, mumbled apology and an _“I love you too.”_  

“Thank you for throwing that coffee. I never would’ve done it.”

George breathed out a laugh and stepped away.

“He deserved a hot one.” He replied with a growing smile. “Listen, do you, maybe, want to spend the night? I don’t want you inhaling paint fumes all night, and I feel like after seeing what’s-his-face you might not want to… whatever. Are you gonna stay?” he asked. Alex’s face lit up like he was a kid on Christmas Day and he nodded emphatically before pausing, the enthusiasm on his face dying quickly.

“It’s Sunday night, there’s-“

“School in the morning. I know.”

Alex’s grin grew again and his face grew hot as he smiled. There was school in the morning, and he was staying over, and despite everything, to one Alexander Hamilton, it really seemed like there could _not_ be a better day.


End file.
